


The Things I Said I'd Never Do (I Have Done Them Anyway)

by azulaahai



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Angst, F/M, Modern AU, Modern Westeros AU, Unexpected Pregnancy, angst with happy ending, be warned, been in my drafts for like six months, don't judge me ok idk either, some fluff-ish if you stick with me to the end lmao, they're young, this is rly anti-Rhaegar
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-27
Updated: 2018-03-27
Packaged: 2019-04-13 17:38:17
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,398
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14117475
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/azulaahai/pseuds/azulaahai
Summary: After just three months of dating, Sansa has big news for Jon. He does not handle it well.





	The Things I Said I'd Never Do (I Have Done Them Anyway)

Jon feels as if though he's in a sort of trance. He fumbles as he tries to put his shoes on. His ears haven't stopped ringing since Sansa sat him down, and while it can't have been more than a few minutes ago, it feels like oceans of time has passed.

Sansa doesn't come out of the living room, nor does she call out or do anything to stop him when he opens the door and steps out. The afternoon is chilly - Jon relishes the cold air against his skin and in his lungs, relishes the normalcy of Sansa's quiet, idyllic street. It's an illusion, of course - the world's far from normal - but it's comforting all the same.

It's not even dark as he heads towards his car on the driveway, despite twilight coming earlier and earlier now as winter approaches. He went straight to Sansa's after work, alarmed by a phone call from her at lunch. Not only had Sansa sounded as if she'd been crying, she'd refused to tell him what was wrong, instead insisting he come over after work. She had scared him so much that, in fact, he had been sure someone had died, or at the very least she was going to end things between them.

She hadn't. Yet.

Jon drives without knowing where he's going. The thought of going home to a quiet house makes him physically ill, but endless, restless driving is hardly an alternative. He drives to a rest stop, getting out of the car, leaning against it, breathing in and out. In and out. 

In and out. 

There's a pack of cigarettes in the glove's compartment, he remembers. Sansa got him to quit smoking a month or so back, but now ... now ... 

Fingers shaking from the cold, he takes one out and lights it, his sulking, miserable image complete. Twilight is right around the corner - he could stay here and watch the sunset. He nearly snorts at the thought. Is it Sansa who has made him such a romantic all of a sudden?

They've only been together for three months. It feels like longer, since they've been acquainted their entire lives, but that's the truth. Three months. Her mother still doesn't like him, she still hasn't met his father.

And now ... now ...

Jon is no better than his own dad, is he? His dad - who knocked up Jon's mum when she was sixteen - while he was married, one might add. Jon has yet to sink _that_ low, but he’s well on his way.

If he closes his eyes, he can see Sansa before him - the way she looked when she told him the news, blue eyes filled with equal parts fear and fierceness.

“I’m pregnant.” She said it so plainly. A mere statement of fact, though Jon knew her well enough to recognise the vulnerability in her voice. 

And he’d ... he’d just ...

Jon takes another smoke, running a trembling hand through his hair. Sansa always teases him about that, the way he always fusses with his hair. He can almost hear her laughing in the back of his head, telling him to put the cigarette out, to stop being such a brooding bastard, to drive back to her place and make things right.

The strange thing is that - she’s the only person he wants to talk to about this situation. From the moment he got into his car all he has been able to think has been “I have to call Sansa, see what she thinks.” She’s his constant lifeline, his unrelenting supporter, even when she’s angry with him. He _used_ to think he was the same way with her. Now, he’s not so sure.

What supportive boyfriend would hear that his partner’s pregnant and immediately run for the hills?

No one, is what.

He lights another cigarette. Gods, Sansa would kill him if she knew. Or maybe now she wouldn’t care.

“Jon?” she had said, softly, as if comforting him. “Would you say something? Please?”

Nothing. He’d been quiet.

“I’m sorry to put you on the spot like this. I ...” She’d _apologised_ to him, for gods’ sake!

And he’d just sat there, unmoving.

“I think ... I mean, I want to keep it.” Her voice had been shaking by then. On the verge of tears. Sansa hadn’t been on the verge of tears in his presence since middle school. Still, he hadn’t acted. 

And then she’d reached out to touch his arm, and that was when he’d gotten up and left.

There’s no excuse, of course.

(But Jon would like to give her one.)

He was just so scared - is still so scared - fuck, fuck, fuck if he isn’t scared. Just like his father. He’s turning out just like his father. The only thing he did not want to do, the only thing he promised himself not to be, the only person he swore not to become and here he is.

Just like his father.

_Fuck._

And Sansa ... Sansa, with perfect grades, who was going to become the best godsdamned civil rights lawyer in Westeros. Sansa, who talks about her dreams with such raw passion and an absentminded smile tugging at her lips. 

If he’s ruined it all for her now ...

She’d wanted kids, Jon knows that. A big family, like the one she grew up in. But not like this. Surely, she could not want it like this. They are so very young, he is so very stupid, things moving so very fast.

The sun is beginning to set over Wintertown, and Jon watches the sky’s shades of violet and red silently, not in awe or contemplation as much as despair. 

His father always loved to watch the sunset.

* * *

It’s late and Sansa knows who it is that’s knocking on the door - who else would it be? She’s less sure if she wants to see him. 

He left her alone. It’s strange, really, how upset she is about that detail - she’s surprised at her own reaction. But that’s all she can seem to think about.

He left her by herself. Things got tough, and he ran. He ran without her.

And now, hours later, he’s come back, though Sansa won’t find out why unless she opens the door. 

A hand moves to her stomach without her thinking about it. It’s still flat - not even a hint of baby bulb yet. She will start showing, though, soon - in a dizzyingly short amount of time.

Sansa takes a deep breath. Another.

Then she opens the door.

Jon’s in a state she’s never seen him in before - he looks a mess, really - hair unruly, eyes almost mad, hands nervously fidgeting as he stands on the threshold in the almost-dark. Her anger caves a little at the sight of him.

He’s scared.

She’s just about to open her mouth and tell him how scared she is too, but that she’s not running, that they can’t run from this, that she knows this isn’t something that they planned for but that it’s happened and that she is not sorry, she wants to tell him that she’s not sorry one bit - 

But then he says her name. 

Says her name the way no one else says it. 

“ _Sansa._ ” 

Like it’s both a question and an answer.

And there’s tears in his eyes and probably in hers as well and then she takes a step forward and he does the same and he pulls her towards him, hugging her gently, carefully, as if she is about to shatter and he’s here now, he’s come back and he’s _here_ now.

Jon begins to whisper something in her ear, it sounds like an apology and she hopes it might be the start of an explanation, but Sansa shakes her head against his shoulder and he falls silent, his hands stroking her back, his nose nuzzling her neck. 

Not right now.

There’ll be much to be said between them, of course. Many decisions to be made, many challenges to be faced, many tears to be wept, surely. It’s cold out here - it’s nearly november, winter creeping closer and closer. They should get inside and deal with it all -

\- but at the moment, all Sansa does is draw Jon a little closer.

_He came back. He’s here._

That’s enough for now.

And far, far above them, the first stars of the long night to come begin to blink awake.


End file.
